Pernicious Infamy
by dreamsofthefountain
Summary: Christine is a happy, healthy college student when she runs into a dark, masked stranger. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

Christine Daaé, like many other people her age, had developed a desperate need for daily coffee. Being a college student had made her quite dependent on the caffeinated drink, especially when it came to her early-morning classes or occasional sessions of late-night studying. As her education progressed and her classes got harder, she got less sleep and began drinking the popular beverage more and more until she had eventually formed the habit of drinking a cup every morning. Living on a college campus in a metropolitan area afforded her plenty of coffee shops and cafés to choose from, but Christine only ever went to one—Café Lemont. It was a small, eclectic place owned by an older French woman, and it never failed in serving delicious, freshly-made brews. Over the years, Madame Giry, the café owner, had become something like a second mother to Christine, and she was always happy to converse with the kind woman when she came in for her morning fix.

Today, however, was different.

"Shit," Christine muttered to herself as she entered the shop. If today were like any other day, she would have greeted all the familiar workers and fellow regulars, then would have sat down at her usual table and waited for the Madame to bring out their shared french-press coffee. She had truly grown to love the familiarity of coming to the same shop every day. It was something that had been missing in her life for a long time. This morning, however, as she strolled into her safe haven, she saw someone that she had hoped against all hope to never see again—her recent ex, Raoul Chagny.

Christine frantically looked around the room for a place to hide. Luckily, he had his back turned towards the door as he ordered his drink at the counter. She quickly spotted a large, fake plant placed in a shadowy corner of the shop and, without thinking, ran to it. As she hurriedly tried to scoot it away from the wall to give herself some space to hide, she belatedly realized that there was someone watching her from their seat at the table to the right of the plastic fern. In her mad dash, she hadn't noticed him sitting there with his newspaper, but she supposed that his decision to take up a position in a poorly-lit spot hadn't helped. She awkwardly gave him an apologetic smile as she ducked behind the false foliage and looked out between its leaves.

There he was, in all his usual glory, standing by the end of the counter, waiting for his coffee. "God damn it, Raoul. You know I love this place, why did you have to come here to get your morning cup?" Christine knew she was talking to herself but truly didn't have the mind to care about whether or not she seemed crazy. She had other things to worry about. Nevertheless, when she finally did glance over at the man sharing her dark corner and noticed that he was trying to hide an amused smirk, she realized that yes, she absolutely did seem mental.

She turned her attention back to her real problem and spotted him sitting by the window—no doubt waiting for her to come in. By the morning light, he looked as devastatingly handsome as he always did. His boyishly cute, tousled, dark blonde hair, his dashing blue eyes, his perfectly sculpted features, and his infuriatingly charming smile were all on obnoxiously great display. Christine suddenly wanted to hit something, but for the sake of not being found in her hiding spot, settled for cursing him silently and clenching her fists.

It felt like hours before she saw him leave, and when he finally did, her body sagged with relief. She checked her worn out leather watch. He'd really only been waiting for half an hour. She let herself slowly sink to the floor as she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. God, she hated seeing him. It really wasn't so long ago that she had laughed in his company and slept in his arms, but it seemed like ages had passed since then. How had they come to this?

"As amusing as it's been to watch you hide and talk to yourself, I'm afraid it's not nearly as entertaining to watch you sit on the floor."

A beautiful voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she opened her eyes. She looked up to find the man who had been sitting directly in front of her watching her curiously. He was wearing a peculiar white mask over the right half of his face, and his eyes were an incredible shade of amber. When she went to answer, she realized with embarrassment that she hadn't really registered what he had said.

"Uh, what?" Christine winced at how empty-headed she sounded. Now he probably thought she was incompetent as well as crazy.

"If you were ducking in this corner in order to avoid the blonde fop that was in here earlier, you are safe to get up now. He is gone." He spoke with utmost civility, but Christine couldn't help but think she heard a hint of hidden anger or irritation.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks!" She got up off the floor, feeling extremely childish. "Sorry about all that. Hope I didn't ruin your morning coffee, they really do make the best here."

"No need to apologize. It was not an altogether unpleasant interruption." Christine noted that he didn't talk quite like anyone else she knew. Not only did he carry a slight accent, but he also spoke with a peculiar sort of distinction. He sounded sophisticated.

"Well, that's good! I think…" She inwardly cringed at her thoughtless response. Knowing that she didn't have any way to salvage the situation, she quickly attempted to dismiss herself. "Anyway, I'm going to go ahead and get out of your hair now. I'm already late for class…Have a nice day!"

Awkwardly, she nodded and turned to leave, practically sprinting out of the shop.

⁕※⁕※⁕※

"Ugh, Meg. I've had the weirdest day."

Christine loved few things as much as talking to her dearest friend. Meg was Madame Giry's daughter and had been the whole reason that Christine had tried Café Lemont in the first place. The French woman's child had long, blonde hair that she dyed light pink at the ends, kind hazel eyes, a delicate nose, friendly dimples, and an annoyingly perfect body. Christine had met Meg in a dance class that they had both taken during their first semesters, and she had instantly taken a liking to the talented, blonde ballerina.

"Aw, poor Christine. And on a Friday, too! What happened?" In all the time that Christine had known her, Meg had always been exceedingly sympathetic. Christine adored her open and understanding disposition.

"You know that I like to go to your mom's place everyday to get coffee, right?" Meg nodded. "Well, guess who I almost ran into today when I went there this morning?" Christine suspected that her friend would know exactly who she was talking about.

"Don't tell me you saw that scumbag ex of yours." Christine puckered her lips and nodded. In response, Meg dramatically dropped her jaw and gasped. "You're kidding! What did you do?"

"Okay, so I walk in, see him standing at the counter, and book it to the nearest hiding spot. I ran to that weird-looking fake plant your mom keeps in the dim corner of the shop. You know which one I'm talking about?" Without waiting for Meg's answer, Christine continued. "Alright, so there I was, running around and talking to myself, when I noticed that there was someone sitting there watching all of this happen. God, Meg, it was so humiliating! I tried to play it off with a smile, but I'm pretty sure the guy just thought I was nuts." Christine groaned and put her hand to her head as she remembered the uncomfortable encounter. Meg laughed.

"Well, at least you didn't have to talk to Raoul." Always looking at the bright side.

"Yeah, I guess. But it got even more embarrassing after that. When Raoul finally left, I just sat on the floor daydreaming until this guy said something to me. I didn't really catch what he said, but I got up off the floor feeling like a total idiot." Christine let out an agitated chuckle. "Then, when I tried to apologize for the craziness he had to witness, he brushed it off and said it hadn't been entirely 'unpleasant'." She threw up air quotes as she spoke the word. "God, the worst part was that he sounded all worldly and educated, while I stood there stumbling over my words, sounding like an airhead and acting like a lunatic…" Christine drifted off as she bit her lip and scrunched her nose. Meg knew that look.

"Christiiiine…" She said coaxingly.

"What? Don't give me that look!"

"Christine!" Meg always knew when she was leaving something out.

"Ugh, fine! When I realized I had already made a terrible impression and that the situation was beyond salvation, I _literally_ ran out of the shop. I completely forgot my coffee. Pretty sure your mom thought I'd seen a ghost."

Meg burst out laughing. "You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met!"

"Great, Meg. This is really helpful." She tried to be annoyed at her friend for taking joy out of her embarrassment, but found herself holding back her own laughter.

"Relax, Chris. You probably won't ever see this guy again anyway."

"You're right." With a sigh of relief, Christine chuckled. In hindsight, her complete lack of grace and class in handling the situation actually was pretty funny. Conversation flowed easily for the next quarter of an hour.

Meg was in the middle of saying something about her music history class when Christine suddenly interrupted. "He wore a mask, you know."

"Huh? Who?"

"The guy in your mom's shop... He was wearing a white mask over the right half of his face."

"Oh, that's weird. Can't say I've ever seen that before. What made you think of it?"

"I don't know, it's just been on my mind. He had the most incredible eyes, Meg. They were practically golden! I've never seen eyes like those in my life."

"Maybe I can ask my mom if she knows him. Do you know his name? How old do you think he was?"

"I definitely don't know his name, but if I had to guess his age, I'd say maybe mid-thirties… I don't know, it was too dim to really tell."

"Well then forget about it! I really doubt you'll run into him a second time." Christine hummed in acknowledgement and nodded. "Anyway, are you going to Jamie's party tomorrow night?"

"I don't know, I have to go to work. If I'm not too tired, maybe I'll pop by afterwards."

After finishing her lunch with Meg and attending her remaining classes for the day, Christine could not have been more eager to get home to her apartment. Aside from the disastrous morning, her Friday had panned out be fairly average, and the day had left her absolutely exhausted. As she left her lecture hall and headed towards home, she had every intention of ordering Chinese from the place down the street, watching a movie, and crashing in her bed.

Half an hour later, as she sat on the couch in her sweats while eating moo shu pork and laughing at Kung Fu Panda, Christine felt satisfaction and a small sense of triumph. She had successfully evaded her ex and survived another week. With her brown curls still dripping from her shower, she felt clean, warm, and relatively peaceful.

When the movie ended, she shoved her leftovers in the fridge, brushed her teeth, and flopped down on her mattress.

Images of glittering, golden eyes and a stark, white mask floated through her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: This is my first go at modern AU stuff. Please feel free to leave comments, as I'm happy to improve my abilities as both a writer and a story-teller. Also, I'm on tumblr, so please feel free to reach out to me there centuryunited. Hope this is enjoyable :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"Christine, _dokhtare man_, could you organize the new books that came in this week? I haven't had the opportunity to do it, and I would greatly appreciate the assistance." Mr. Khan was a good-natured 49 year old man who had a full head of slightly-graying black hair, caramel colored skin, bright green eyes, and thick-rimmed glasses. He was the current owner of the Seminary Co-op Bookstore, a medium-sized place that housed one of the largest collections of academic books in the world, and as such, was also Christine's employer. She had started working there as soon as she had started her first semester in college in order to pay her tuition. Of the several jobs she had held in her life, working at the bookstore was easily her favorite. The store was close to both campus and her apartment, and it didn't require a whole lot of actual doing. Occasionally, like tonight, she had to organize a new set of books or help someone find something in particular, but for the most part, her job allowed her to sit there and do her homework or read a book in peace. Plus, she never worked crazy hours, and Mr. Khan was always understanding when she had to call off.

"Of course. You're talking about the boxes in the back, right?"

"Indeed. If you can't get them all sorted tonight, that's alright. I'll help you organize the rest of them later this week."

"No worries, Mr. Khan. I'm sure I can get it done." Christine shot him a smile.

"Perfect!" He began walking away before quickly turning back around. "I almost forgot. I'm leaving early tonight for a business dinner. Would you be so kind as to close up shop?"

"It would be no problem."

"Thank you." Mr. Khan gave her one his trademark, sincere smiles before sauntering back to his office.

After her boss left for the night, Christine made sure none of the customers needed any help before making her way to the back room.

"Yikes, this is going to take longer than I thought." Seven boxes filled to the brim with books sat on the floor in front of her. "Well, better get started then."

She opened the first one and emptied its books out onto the only table in the musty, old room. She decided that she could get done much faster if she divided them up into the shop's pre-existing categories before she tried to put them all on the shelves. It would prevent having to constantly run from one part of the shop to the other. Once the first box was fully sorted and placed onto the bookstore's one and only book cart, she walked back out to the common area. Quickly, she wheeled the books from section to section until they were all placed in their proper spots.

Before she returned to the back to start sorting the second box, Christine skipped to the counter at which she usually sat to fetch her headphones out of her purse. It was already eight o'clock, and she had some serious work to do. The music would help the tedious task go by quickly. As she walked to the back room, she plugged in her buds and searched for the perfect playlist. Torn between a few, she ultimately decided on her 90s rock collection. While 'Semi-Charmed Life' began to play, she tore into the second box.

Christine considered herself a music connoisseur. Since she had been a little girl, music was a large part of her life. Now, as a young adult majoring in Music at the University of Chicago, it had practically become as intrinsic to her person as her overly-compassionate ways. Her father had been a classical musician, and she had been taught from an early age to appreciate all manner of operas, concertos, waltzes, nocturnes, and the sort. Unfortunately, her father's preferences had also meant that, aside from a few folk songs, she hadn't been exposed to much outside of the classical realm while growing up. It wasn't until she took a Music in Western Civilization class during her first semester in college that she was properly introduced to all different genres of music and taught to appreciate them. She still held a special fondness for the classical stuff, but she had truly grown to enjoy all the varieties of rock, jazz, pop, and alternative albums. Now, as she did a little head bob and hummed along with her new music, she placed the second group of books on the cart and wheeled them out to the main room.

It was in this fashion that Christine finished organizing most of the books. She was carting out the last box of books when she noticed that only one customer remained, seemingly waiting for an employee so that she could pay for something. Christine rushed over, apologized for making her wait, and quickly checked her out. She then checked her watch and noted that it was already quarter to ten. Grinning softly to herself as she realized she was finally on her own, she began to play the air guitar and sing along with 'In Too Deep'.

Whipping her curly ponytail around, Christine closed her eyes and used her phone as a fake mic. Feeling content and free in her unobserved moment of fun, she reopened her eyes, shoved her phone in the back pocket of her jeans, and began to dance through the aisles of the shop while making sure no one left anything on the floor or on the small coffee tables. All too soon, the song ended, and with that, so did her 90s rock playlist. Swiftly, she pulled her phone back out to choose something new to listen to. As she looked down at her screen, she lazily continued walking forward until a pair of polished, black dress shoes entered her field of vision. Startled, Christine gave a little jump as she ripped her headphones out and looked up.

There he was, standing right in front of her. She hadn't noticed how tall he was when she saw him at the café, but he had been sitting at the time, so she supposed it would have been hard to tell anyway. Nevertheless, as she took him in from head to toe now, the first thing she noticed was that he seemed to stand an entire foot taller than her! His golden eyes practically glowed behind the white mask that was still fashioned to the right side of his face, and Christine noted that their breathtaking quality had not diminished upon looking at them a second time. The man's natural air of mystery was only augmented by the fact that he was wearing a perfectly tailored suit—silky black tie pinned down by an obsidian-tipped clip, crisp white shirt tucked under a patterned black vest, sleek black jacket, and black dress pants. His slicked-back hair was also jet black, almost giving him an appearance of being perpetually shrouded by shadows. Despite his many layers of dark, formal clothing, Christine could still tell that the man was quite thin. Even though it was nearly perfectly tailored, his fancy attire seemed to hang off of his frame ever so slightly.

Suddenly remembering herself, she realized that she had been shamelessly staring, and her cheeks flushed. Sheepishly, she turned her gaze down to her own feet. "Uh, sorry. I didn't know you were in here… nobody really comes in at this hour…" When she was met with silence, Christine awkwardly looked back up. "Do you need help finding something?"

"No, thank you. I am quite familiar with the shop." Christine furrowed her brows. She didn't remember ever having encountered him in all the time that she'd worked there.

"But I've never seen you here before."

"You wouldn't have. I am… well-acquainted with your employer, Mr. Khan. In fact, he is the reason I am here. Is he in?"

"No. He left pretty early today, said he had a business dinner. He'll be back in tomorrow, though."

The man nodded in response and gracefully turned to walk towards the foreign language section. Christine walked to the counter where she usually sat and tried to concentrate on anything but the stranger that was perusing several books. It was evidently a useless effort. She couldn't stop glancing up at him. His every move seemed to be riddled with a feline sort of grace, his lanky form belying some evident power. His demeanor was dark, but simultaneously poetic and almost musical. He appeared to move with the rise and fall of some unheard symphony, and Christine found herself entranced by his very presence. The man certainly wasn't the ideal image of male beauty by normal standards, but there was something about him and the way that he carried himself that Christine could not help but find oddly alluring.

It wasn't until he approached her with a book in hand and softly cleared his throat that she snapped out of her reverie. She lightly shook her head in order to clear it and took a book with an unfamiliar, foreign title from his gloved hand. Absently, she rung him up and told him his total as she wondered why he wore leather gloves indoors. She'd never seen that before. As she pondered the possible reasons for the man's mode of dress, he handed her some cash, told her to keep the change, and grabbed the book from the counter.

Before she could register what she was doing, she reached out, gripped the other end of his newly purchased book, and exclaimed "Wait! What's your name?" As soon as she saw him whip his head back around, she realized what she had done and instantly released the hardcover. For a few moments, he had looked deadly. He had seemed both extremely surprised and angered by her actions, but his face had returned to a neutral expression with a speed that could have only come from excessive practice. It was unsettling. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to be so forward..." Christine blushed. She seemed to love making a fool of herself in front of this stranger.

"Erik. My name is Erik." His lips quirked to a barely noticeable smile, if one could even call it that.

"Nice to meet you, Erik. My name is Christine." She stretched out her hand with a sincere smile on her face.

"A pleasure, Christine." He glanced at her hand, and instead of shaking it, regally bowed with a flick of his wrist. He met her eyes as he stood back up. "Good evening." He placed a hat low on his head and walked out of the shop and into the night.

All thoughts of going to Jamie's party forgotten, Christine closed up the store and began to walk home. She seemed to be unable to think of anything other than the strange masked man she had encountered twice in two days.

_Erik._

* * *

**A/N: "Dokhtare man" means my girl in farsi.**


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